"Mikoto, I'm sorry…."

The world went dark. Everything stopped. His mind was blank. The only thing he comprehended for what seemed like hours, was the beating of his heart. For a few, fleeting seconds, nothing hurt. It was as though with the news of Totsuka Tatara's demise, the entire world just up and went with him. But no, this was only the fleeting numbness before the storm. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Suoh Mikoto understood this.

Then, one thing came back to him. One thing.

Totsuka's smile. The one he had worn on his lips just hours ago while saying goodbye as he left HOMRA to go out and film the night sky from one of the tallest buildings in town. Smiling lips that had promised to be back in just a few hours. Smiling lips that healed wounds, big and small. Smiling lips that welcomed, that gave comfort to anyone and everyone. Lips that Mikoto hadn't kissed since they woke up that morning.

He would never see that smile again?

The injustice of it, the unfairness, the distortedness of it all broke something and suddenly fire surged from every inch of Suoh Mikoto's being. Asphalt melted, buildings around him creaked and shuddered from the sudden intense increase of temperature, glass shattered from nearby windows. The very air was on fire. If there was no more Totsuka, then there would be nothing else. It wasn't right that he was gone. What was even worse than that was that the world was still spinning anyway, as though Totsuka Tatara hadn't even mattered one bit. As though the world didn't need Totsuka. He would break it. Break the world that didn't care if Totsuka was alive or dead. Break the world that took him from him.

'Your powers aren't meant to destroy. They're meant to protect.'

Mikoto froze, eyes wide. The words seemed to echo around his head, seemed to fill the space around him, cooling his flames like slim fingers across his heated flesh had done hundreds of times before. His chest tightened. His heart ached.

'Everything will be alright.'

Slowly, grudgingly, the flames died down, leaving everything around him in at least a twenty yard radius smoldering and smoking and scarred. In the sky overhead, his Sword of Damocles was cracked and damaged, chunks of the blade falling freely now. It had been bad before, had been showing signs of wear for a while now, but not like this. An acrid smirk blossomed on Mikoto's thin lips at the irony of it all.

Totsuka had wanted him to live.

He gazed up at the sword. It would fall, if he kept using his powers. They had been aware of this for a while, and he hadn't cared, had come to terms. But now… Now he couldn't afford for it to fall, couldn't afford to step down as the Red King. Now, he needed his powers more than ever.

Nothing was right in the world.

Totsuka Tatara was dead.